


The Ones Who Got Away

by SummerLeighWind



Series: The Inhabitants of Knockturn Alley [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Cute Kids, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Gen, Grandchildren, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Growing Old, Growing Up, Hogwarts, Lesbian Character, Old Age, Pen Pals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerLeighWind/pseuds/SummerLeighWind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were the first of their family to go to Hogwarts. How their experiences changed them differed greatly between them, but despite it all, somehow, they made it through as brother and sister still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Recollecting Pieces of the Past

Boris remembered the farm best, out of all his siblings. As oldest, it probably should have been expected. Though, Tatyana at a year younger seemed to recall very little about that farm. She didn't remember the wide and open expanses of malachite and azure; she didn't recall the baying of goats or the smell of burning wood and she didn't remember the games they used to play with their cousins, she didn't - she didn't seem to recall anything.

He'd complained about that once to her, on their way to Hogwarts. Delicate features pointed in her vexation, she'd argued, "That's not true! I remember the hound we kept tied up outside!"

That hound hadn't even been theirs. It had belonged to Aunt Sophie's family. Once, he tried quizzing Ellen about the farm, she recalled more than Tatyana, but she hadn't really given him a clear idea on what she did remember and what she didn't.

She'd been too distracted. Distracted by that scum, Greg. Teeth grinding in distaste, Boris felt cold righteousness fill his breast. He'd been right in the end, Greg had first raised a thug son who brought himself a swift end and then he'd showed himself to be little better by finding his boy's killer and torturing him with a forbidden curse before killing him.

He might have felt sorry for Ellen, if he hadn't expected her husband to show his true colors eventually. He'd said that to her, once, a few years after her husband's incineration. Never had his sister looked so furious before. She might not have had a wand, but he had no doubt the smarting his backside had gotten as he was chased from her home was a an unsaid stinging hex.

Boris hadn't seen Ellen more than twice since that day.

His other siblings, though...

Tatyana came by often enough, she'd never married, never kept a man and lived with a squib roommate - Rosie or Dandy or something like that. She was the real link in the family; she kept up with all of them and shared what she knew about the others with whomever she was visiting. The next sibling Boris saw most often was his brother, Earl.

He came by once in a blue moon and welcomed him and all his children and grandchildren into his home with open arms. Unlike most of their family, Earl didn't seem to mind a crowd. Or maybe, it was just these days he liked seeing everyone, liked feeling close to them - what, with his daughter being dead and all. It was such a shame about that girl Boris had to say. She'd been a fine example of Slytherin. Sascha had socialized well and married even better.

Not like prickly Irene. She'd been a Slytherin, just like her niece, but instead of using it to her advantage, she'd sulked her way through her school years and went on to work at the ministry for a few years before dropping out of the wizarding world all together. Last he heard, she'd married some muggle man and had a son. He was pretty sure the boy's name was Bart. Bart Arbor - or, well, it sounded sort of like that.

Boris's mind had been going for the past couple years. His wife fretted about it, but not Boris. No. He'd given up on worrying about it. Instead, he just liked to write everything down. Most of his time was spent doing just that, these days. If he wasn't jotting down some memory in his notebook, he was keeping a list of songs he'd heard on the radio and liked well enough that he might want to see about asking his nephews to play for him the next time he went to see them.

"Grandpa!"

Swiveling in his desk chair, he opened his arms to the girl. Lucinda was his second son, Hank's, youngest daughter. He had two more at Hogwarts, both with aspirations to be aurors.

Good for 'em, he thought. The world could do with a couple more of those.

Hugging the little girl, he brought her up on his knee and gave her a bit of candy from the jar he kept on his desk.

"How's my favorite granddaughter doing, eh?" he asked her.

Sucking on her stick of candy, caramel eyes studied him closely. Finally, with a popping sound, she took the candy away from her lips and said, "I'm alright, but Mummy's head was botherin' her again; so, Daddy came by for lunch an' brought me here!"

"I see..." Boris replied. Damn that woman, he thought fleetingly. Eloise barely got out of bed these days. He suspected it wasn't her head that was bothering her - or at least it wasn't in the way of physical pains. He really ought to insist Hank check her in at St. Mungo's or something.

Tiny, butterfly ring adorned fingers traced the scribbles in Boris's book. "Grandpa," Lucinda said, "will y'tell me one of your stories again?"

Settling back, Boris wrapped an arm around the little girl and asked, "What story would you like?"

"Tell me about Great Auntie Tatyana's sortin' again, I really like that one."

Stroking her hair fondly, Boris mused that this one might be the one that his sister took home. Lucinda loved her great aunt more strongly than any of her other niece or nephews ever had - even more than Gaspard. And that one had been the apple of Tatyana's eye.

In a few years, he could see her spending her summers with her aunt over her parents. Boris felt badly for his son in that way, he was going to lose his baby, but it was better he lost her to family over one of those "social" groups.

Kissing her head, he whispered, "Of course, my pet."

"Mm…" the child mumbled as she settled into his girth, caramel eyes focused on his chin; once or twice they flickered with impatience. She was getting tired of waiting, but, Boris's memory wasn't what it once was and he needed to read what he wrote to get it right...

-v-v-v-v-v-

On the train, Boris sent one last wave to his parents who stood on the platform with the rest of his siblings before turning to his wide-eyed sister. "You better find a compartment now, if you don't want to have to walk in on a bunch of strangers!" he informed her as he tightened his old on his trunk.

"Wait..." Tatyana murmured, "You and I aren't sitting together?"

He wrinkled his nose and made a derisive noise. "I got mates! Why would I want to sit with you?"

Her eyes narrowing, the younger's features seemed to sharpen to a needlepoint. "Why would you want to sit with me? How about because if you don't, I'm going to start sobbing right here, Boris. I'm very confident from the look of the children who've been loading this train that they will come to my aid." Tapping her chin, she gave her older brother a fierce grin.

"I bet they'd believe every word that leaves my mouth too, don't you think?"

Face very hot and feeling quite forced-upon, Boris grabbed his sister's hand and led her down the corridor. "Alright, alright," he grumbled.

Eventually, he found a compartment with one of his friends. It was Michael Diggory, a boy just a year above himself who'd been very kindly in showing Boris the ropes of Hogwarts. Smiling as he stepped into the small room, he gave the third year a wave. "Hullo!"

"Hello, yourself!" The other smiled as he put aside the cat he'd been playing with. "Who've you brought with you, here?" he asked, eyeing Tatyana with a curious quirk of his brow.

"Erm-"

"I am Tatyana," she told the boy, giving him a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Grinning at her, Michael gave it a strong shake and replied, "Right back at you."

Settling down in the seat from across from him, Boris had to hold back a roll of his eyes as his sister squished against his side. Really, why was she so scared? Hogwarts was the best!

No one knew he was the first in his family's memory to attend Hogwarts, Boris had gotten away with telling people he'd grown up in Hogsmeade over Knockturn Alley (even though he'd never set foot anywhere besides his family's old farm and Knockturn before he left for Hogwarts) and when he said his dad worked at a potions shop, they'd accepted without a fact that this would mean he'd be better than most at potions. Of course, that meant Boris was made to spend his first several weeks at Hogwarts putting effort into getting ahead in the class, but he hadn't minded. He'd do anything to fit in. Anything to appear just like every other first year Gryffindor in his year and those before him.

And if Tatyana played her cards right, she could have an experience here that would be just as charming.

Eyes darting between them, Michael remarked, "You two don't look much alike, do you?"

"No, I suppose I took mostly after my mother's side of the family and Tatyana looks very much like a young version of our aunt Regina - our father's sister."

Crossing her arms, Tatyana grumbled, "Don't say I look like aunt Regina! She talks to trees!"

It made Boris's friend chuckle and he gave his sister an approving nod. If she kept up this attitude, she'd have a great deal of mates in no time! "Doesn't change the fact you look like her," he insisted.

"Ha, ha," Tatyana muttered, the conversation dying once again.

Michael, who really didn't care for awkward silences, cleared his throat and asked the most important question of all. "What house do you think you'll be in, Tatyana?"

"I don't know. I'd like to be in a nice one, though."

The oldest pushed back his brown bangs and remarked, "I suppose you're thinking of Hufflepuff, eh? My sister's in that house and she's always got a friend with her wherever she goes."

"Yes, you're right. I was considering Gryffindor too, but my brother's there and who'd want to be in the same house as him?" Tatyana teased, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Boris could play along, he decided.

"You're the one who has the disgusting habit of chewing off your fingernails and spitting them on the floor, I can't imagine what your roommates are going to do to you when they catch you in action," he countered.

Warming up to the game, Tatyana argued, "Sleep-talking's worse, Boris."

"It's not disgusting!"

"Well, at least it doesn't wake people up at three in the morning!"

Watching them volley, Michael remarked, "He's that loud, eh? I'm surprised the firsties never said anything last year if your sister could hear you from her room."

Blinking at Michael, Tatyana furrowed her pencil-line brows and started "My room? We sh-"

"The walls are thin," Boris broke in, earning a nasty glare from his younger sister as she let her fingers go to her side - his elbow having jabbed her ribs a second before.

Michael only looked further befuddled as he nodded his head, "Ah, right."

They were saved from more talking, though; because a knock came from the door and a moment later the lady with the trolley was peaking in with a smile. "Anything to eat, young sirs? Miss?"

Michael dug into his pocket. "A Pumpkin Pasty, please," he said offering the correct amount of change to the middle-aged woman.

Boris touched his own pocket. He had enough for a Liquorice Wand and he almost asked for one, but then he saw how his sister was gazing longingly at the Jelly Slugs. He'd saved some of his money from his birthday last month for this, but Tatyana...she'd not known about the express. Or the candy. Sighing, Boris told the pleasant-looking woman, "A package of Jelly Slugs, please."

Handing them to him, she watched as he indulgently handed one of the pair right off to his sister.

"A good brother, you are," she praised before taking her leave.

Tatyana favored him with a smile before sinking her teeth into the treat.

And thankfully, for the rest of the trip to Hogwarts she amused herself with staring out the window and listening to Michael and he talk familiars, (it was Boris's greatest wish to get an owl).

-v-v-v-v-v-

Parting wasn't difficult for Boris, but even as the first years were being beckoned away from the crowd of returning Hogwarts students, Tatyana clung to his arm. Dark eyes much too large for her petite features, she clung to the hem of his sleeve and demanded, "How do I get in Hufflepuff?"

"You don't get to choose, you know? The hat puts you where it thinks you ought to be!" He explained while trying to shake her off.

Lip quivering, his little sister clung tighter. "Boris..." she hissed, "You've got to know something! How did you get into Gryffindor?"

"Oh you'll find out! Just get off me and hurry! Those boats don't wait around for forever!" he snapped at her.

Shaking off his sister once and for all, he ignored her choked cries and hurried to catch up with Michael and a few of his yearmates. Tatyana was going to be fine, he knew. After all, he had been!

-v-v-v-v-v-

Watching student after student go up to the stool, Boris kept an avid ear open for his sister's name. About halfway through the sorting, he heard them call for Tatyana and so, curious, he watched her shuffle up to the stool.

Unlike most children who'd breezed up with far too much confidence, Tatyana walked a wavering line; features drawn the fingernails of one hand caught between her teeth. The professor - Dumbledore - gave his sister a gentle encouragement with a quick touch of his hand to the seat of the stool when she paused before it and did not sit.

"That's your sister, right?" one of his classmates asked him in a whisper.

Ears blazing, Boris nodded. "She's just easily scared 's all," he mumbled back.

"What she scared for?" Percilla Brown demanded with a quirk of her head.

Boris pulled his lips in a thin line and watched as Tatyana carefully placed herself down on the stool, he took in how Dumbledore gave her a moment to take her hand out of her mouth and place it in her lap before he let the sorting hat slip over her crown.

The hat sat atop her head for ten seconds, then twenty more, thirty plus and just as it seemed that it may go on to hit the two minute mark, the hat boomed,

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Distantly, he heard a Gryffindor grumble, "It took it that long to sort a Hufflepuff?"

If Boris hadn't been so relieved to see his sister sorted at all, he may have turned on that insensitive prick and given him a good word about watching what he said because that's his little sister he was talking about!

Stumbling away from the stool, Tatyana looked dazed and may have stood there a good deal longer if the Transfiguration professor didn't nudge her toward her clapping and hooting table. Boris clapped too, because it was his sister, but he wondered, just what had gone on between her and the hat?

-v-v-v-v-v-

"What went on between auntie Tatyana an' the hat, grandpa?" Lucinda questioned, her face stained pink from her candy (now long gone).

Resting a heavy hand atop her red-gold halo, Boris remarked, "You know, I never did ask. I guess that's always been part of the magic of the sorting hat. You don't know about its dealings except for the one it had with you."

Considering this, Lucinda began to play with the buttons on his shirt. Boris had always liked having a child in his lap, despite their pointy elbows and knees once they got older, there was something...comforting about them. How they were so warm, how they trusted so fully to put themselves in such a place where there could be no escape for them if you turned out to be some sort of monster instead. Boris liked children, in simplest terms and that was why he and the wife had so many.

It ended up being a bit of a stretch money-wise, especially after he added Irene to his list of children to put through Hogwarts, but he'd never regretted it. They'd all shaped up to be fine members of society more or less - even Talia. And she'd left her husband after seven years of marriage to live in a one room flat to breed and sell toads. That girl had always been the quirky one, though.

A tiny hand gave his beard a tug.

Looking down, he saw his dear granddaughter gazing up with her eyes very solemn. "Yes, my dear?" he questioned politely.

"D'you think auntie Tatyana would tell y'how she got sorted to Hufflepuff if y'asked?" she demanded.

Blinking, Boris didn't have an answer. Would she? Maybe. Meeting the little girl's serious gaze, he told her, "I don't rightly know, but I'll ask for you if I see her first, okay?"

Hugging him around the neck, the girl gave a happy squeal. "You're the bestest, grandpa!"

"Thank you, dear," he replied.

Boris would be the first to admit he took well to flattery. His wife knew it too and over the years (along with his daughters) had figured out that was the best way to convince him that yes, they absolutely did need that new robe/skirt/hat. He really didn't mind, in the end. Being an owlet trainer did pay quite handsomely, after all. If they needed a bit of extra cash to cover expenses, he always just had to take on another owl - or two - to train occasionally.

Patting the little girl's bum, he remarked, "You should go see if your grandma wants any help in the kitchen, Lucinda."

"Okay, grandpa," the child agreed, already scrabbling down from his lap and running for the door of his study.

Watching her leave, Boris considered sending his sister a letter. He could ask her to come over tomorrow if he so chose, that way. But, knowing Tatyana, she'd be by his place before the week was even over. He should surely have the patience to last that long - and so should Lucinda.

But...

Grabbing a piece of parchment, Boris began to write.

-v-v-v-v-v-

Seated across from one another in the kitchen, Boris didn't think to say much at all as they sipped at their tea and ate the biscuits his wife had laid out before leaving to do her afternoon sitting of Huppert's twins, Marcel and Marian. Their poor mother, Bethany, had a bit of postpartum blues and getting a break from the babies helped her quite a bit.

Tatyana, her face still fine even in her old age, twitched. "What made you write that I come today, Boris?" she inquired just a bit too sharply as she set aside her half-empty cup of tea.

Absently, Boris stroked his beard. "Write...? Oh yes, I wrote a letter for you to come," he murmured.

"I know you're not that forgetful yet, so don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes, you old goat," Tatyana sniped. "I was planning to go on a picnic with Dandelion today, before you wrote me, anyway."

Smirking despite himself, the elder remarked, "A picnic? With your flat mate? Sometimes I just don't understand you, my dear."

"We're very good friends, after all these years of living together," Tatyana muttered.

Nodding, Boris agreed, "I can only image, sister. As for why I insisted you come today, it's not so much for me as it is for Lucinda. You remember her, don't you? She's quite fond of you."

"Lucinda...Hank's youngest?" She questioned with only a tad bit of uncertainty.

Boris grinned. "That's a girl," he praised, "Some days I wished my memory was as sharp as yours. I know I embarrass Hector's oldest three sons greatly because I'm always mixing them up with Ophelia's two boys, Roger and Maxim."

"I always told you to eat your parsnips," Tatyana sniffed. "But no! You said they tasted like feet and put them on my plate instead!"

Laughing jovially, Boris touched his beard again and said, "You really ought to come by more on the weekends - that's when the kids are here mostly. I know Lucinda would adore it if you did."

The woman gave a shifty look to the world outside the tall windows to the left of their table. "I'll try," she replied without any real conviction. Boris knew that's when she liked to visit Ellen and her sons.

"Anyway, about why I wrote you to come today. I thought I should get you over before I forget - Lucinda had a question for me, she wanted to know what went on between you and the snorting hat."

Blinking quickly, Tatyana sputtered, "What do you mean 'went on' between me and the hat?"

"You know! When you were sorted! What did you - oh, why on earth would you think I would mean it like that?"

Well-lined face a smarting pink, Tatyana reached for her teacup and drained it. "I don't-" shaking her head, she rubbed at the spot between her eyes and asked, "Why does she need to know? She's not due for Hogwarts for another - five? Six? years."

"Like I've told you, she quite likes you. I imagine she wants to make sure she'll get to be in the same house as well," Boris explained as he grabbed a biscuit to munch on.

Her eyes becoming liquid sugar, the woman smiled. "She really is a dear, isn't she?"

"Lucinda is the only one I call my favorite granddaughter," he admitted around a bite of biscuit. "Her sisters are good, strong girls, but they just aren't -" he gave a circular wave of his hand, "Oh, I don't know! The girls just aren't her."

"She's an angel in disguise, eh?"

Boris gave a resolute bob of his head. "That she is," he concurred.

They both let silence come between them for a moment, both thinking of other angels they'd met while living their lives.

"So, how'd you end up in Hufflepuff?" he asked again after he'd let his tea go cold in its cup.

An amused twist coming to her lips, Tatyana shrugged. "Truthfully? I just chanted Hufflepuff in my head until it gave up trying to talk to me and screamed it for everyone to hear," she admitted.

Squinting at his little sister, Boris made a noise of doubt. Leaning in, the woman muttered, "No, really, Boris! That's how I did it!" Laughing next, she remarked, "That's not even the interesting part of the story! The best part is how I managed to survive it! You might not think it now, brother dear, but I was quite the crafty girl. My roommates thought I was catty and rude for my whole first quarter!"

Boris felt guilty; he hadn't realized..."Did they now?" He said without really saying much at all.

Old eyes twinkling with the light of memories, the woman's fingers went to play with the ring she wore around her left hand ring finger. "They did, Boris, but really, I wouldn't have changed it for the world...Do you want to know why, brother dear? It was because that's how Dandy and I became friends."

Sudden urge to record what's to be said absorbing him, Boris's fingers spasmed and he wrapped his fingers around the wand he kept on his belt. "Just a minute, Tatyana, let me get some paper and a quill..."

Amused tilt to her pencil-line brows, his sister mumbled, "You're going to write down how Dandy and I became friends?"

"For Lucinda, she'll love it," Boris insisted as he levitated some parchment to the table from the counter over yonder.

Laughing, the woman put up a hand, "Alright, alright...you ready? Then this is how our story begins..."

-v-v-v-v-v-

Tatyana wasn't doing too well. Her roommates thought she was a prick who lived to make them look dumb and call them ugly. But really, was it her fault she'd spent the majority of the summer reading her brother's old textbooks? One of her roommates she knew for certain had an older sister, but Tatyana also knew she hadn't touched her sister's first year textbooks either.

Why was that though? Was there a rule?

Maybe it was one of those unsaid ones, like the rule Mumma had about going near horses. It had something to do with one of her uncles, she knew, there was a story she'd heard in snippets about a great-uncle who'd been kicked by a horse in the head as a little boy and forevermore had a dent in his head, a forgetfulness that left him incapable of taking care of himself lest he set fire to his home, an inability to speak without slurring everything and a wild temper that showed itself in great explosions that caused things to rattle and shake and fall.

Tatyana suspected he was a wizard, because of the last thing, but as he'd been damaged too young, there had been no chance of him ever getting any learning like her mumma.

And really, how was she supposed to know telling Betsy Higglebottom that her wearing her hair down made her face look fat would be taken as an insult? She and Ellen had criticized each other's looks openly. Never ever had she lied to her sister and told her that what she'd done with her hair made her look "sweet" as Ruth Nicholson had done with Betsy. Even Tatyana's mother had been honest. When she thought Tatyana had been putting on too much weight last year around Christmas, she told her so.

She'd accepted that, yes, she'd been taking too many seconds at dinner and told her mumma she'd stop so she wouldn't become a Roly Poly of a girl.

But these girls! They acted as if she'd insulted one of their mothers!

It just wasn't fair, she'd thought.

From her spot in the Hufflepuff common rooms, Tatyana had sniveled surreptitiously into her cloak and cast a look around at the many older students still talking and doing work around her. Most of the younger students had already gone to bed - it being curfew for them and all - but Tatyana had snuck down to the common room half an hour ago and claimed a chair in the shadows as her own. If she didn't make too much noise, she bet she could stay here all night. Away from her roommates who whispered and giggled well into the night without ever so much as acknowledging her presence.

However, despite feeling she was doing an excellent job of keeping quiet, an upper year girl approached Tatyana. Crouching down in front of her, the girl, a plump, piercing-eyed teenager asked, "Having a tough time, poppet?"

Incapable of holding in how miserable she was, Tatyana nodded her head and let tears fall from her eyes. "Uh-huh," she replied. "My dormmates hate me!"

Giving her a sympathetic smile, the nice girl gave her thigh a gentle pat. "How terrible," she tittered. "Do you know why?" she asked.

Tatyana, feeling very stingy, said darkly, "They don't work on logic."

This drew a rather spritely laugh from the plump teenager. "Oh?" she replied. "I'm sorry to say, poppet, very few eleven year old girls do."

Lip wobbling, Tatyana admitted, "I wanna go home. My mumma could teach me instead and maybe my sisters or brother could come and try Hogwarts out instead in a couple years."

Furrowing her brow in thought, the girl that Tatyana didn't know the name of yet, tapped at her dimpled chin with a thick finger. "If I could give you a friend, would you stay at Hogwarts?" she asked her.

Tatyana nodded eagerly. If she had a friend, at least she wouldn't be so alone. "Yes!" she happily exclaimed. "A friend would be wicked!"

Smiling in satisfaction, the teenager said, "I have a sister, Dandy, she's a squib. This year she would have gone to Hogwarts and is a bit put out about it. She's been very afraid that she'll be all alone her whole life because she can't go to Hogwarts like me. If I gave you my address, how would you like to write Dandelion and be her friend?"

That wasn't exactly what Tatyana wanted, another letter-friend like her sister and brother, but she knew it was best not to stick her nose up at the offer.

So, putting on a beaming grin, she agreed. "I'd love to write and be friend's with Dandy!"

A relieved expression overtaking the older girl's features she reached out and took Tatyana in a gleeful embrace. "Oh, what a good girl you are! Thank you!"

Hugging her back briefly, Tatyana pulled away. Studying the teen for a moment, she questioned, "Since I'm gonna be your sister's letter-friend, will you be my meal friend? It's awfully lonely having nobody to sit and talk to at breakfast and stuff."

"Oh yes, it's the least I can do," the teenager agreed. Putting out her hand then, she said, "It's a pleasure to be your friend, I'm Samantha."

Taking the hand, Tatyana shook it firmly just as Boris had taught her to do and replied, "The same to you, Samantha! I'm Tatyana."

Ten minutes later, Samantha and Tatyana were seated at a table, bent close together as they carefully crafted Tatyana's first of many letters to Dandy.

-v-v-v-v-v-

"I never realized…" Boris murmured. "I always figured she must have been related to a student, but for you to have known her so long...that's simply astounding!"

Steepling her fingers in front of her on the table between them, Tatyana shook her head at her brother. "It's really not," she disagreed. "It was pure luck, is all. Samantha took a chance on me, believing that our loneliness would call out to one another. It did, much to her relief, but if I'd been on better terms with my dormmates...Well, sometimes I highly doubt we'd be as close as we are."

Boris just smiled. "Always so modest," he murmured. "Just wait until Lucinda hears about this! She'll want a pen pal all her own…"

This made Tatyana raise an eyebrow. "Where will you find her one?" she asked.

The old man shrugged and stroked his beard as he read over his notes. "I don't rightly know, but I believe I'll find her one somehow. She's such a dear one, you know," he murmured as the scritch-scratching carried on the void left by the end of his sentence

"I do," the woman replied after a while. "Now, brother, if you will excuse me, I'd quite like to get home for that picnic!"

Distractedly, he waved her off. "Go on," he mumbled, "Don't let me hold you back."

Nodding, as she left, Tatyana murmured, "If only you always thought so…"


	2. Memories to Pass the Time

"Auntie Tatyana!" Lucinda shrieked as she ran at the woman standing in her grandfather's kitchen. Little fingers bunching in the back of her auntie's lace skirt, Lucinda stared up at the old woman. "Grandma said you were comin' for dinner," she said.

Fine features softening, Tatyana tugged on one her great-niece's copper pigtails and said, "I'm not the only one who came, dear."

Blinking her pretty eyes, the girl pulled her lips into a frown as she pulled away. Now that Tatyana did not take up Lucinda’s whole world, she saw the other woman just behind her aunt.

"Hi, Miss Dandy!" the little girl shouted with a toothsome grin. "Do you know what Grandpa told me 'bout you, Miss Dandy?"

Dandy glanced to Tatyana, age-dulled eyes flickering for just a moment with worry. Tatyana made sure to keep her smile calm in the face of her partner's uncertainty, even as she heard her own heart give a thump. Thankfully, it was infectious and the fear left Dandy's gaze as she leaned over Lucinda to favor her with a small smile.

"What did you learn, sunshine?" she asked.

Tiny chest puffing out proudly, the girl said, "That you were Auntie Tatyana's pen pal while she was at Hogwarts!"

Tatyana shared a fond chuckle with Dandy as the other woman gave Tatyana's niece a nod. "That's right, I was," she replied. Giving her hand to the little girl as Boris shambled into the room with his journal in his grip, Dandy asked, "Has he told you about the first time your great aunt and I met in person?"

Shaking her head, the girl answered, "Nuh-huh!"

"Then I guess I'll have to tell you it, hm?" Dandy suggested as she sent Boris a short nod in greeting.

"Oh, yes please Miss Dandy!" Lucinda insisted as she gave the old woman's hand an anxious tug.

Watching the pair as they went to sit at the kitchen table, Tatyana walked over to her brother's side and asked, "Do you plan to write this story down too, Boris? I'm sure Lucinda will wanted it repeated again and again."

The old man gave her a frown. "Not that this isn't nice, Tatyana, but what are you doing here?"

Her almost non-existent eyebrows going to her hairline, Tatyana questioned in return, "Why do you think I'm here?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew, would I!" he snapped.

That familiar sense of trepidation coming to her gut as she searched the scowling countenance of her brother, Tatyana whispered, "You invited us for dinner early this morning, remember? You and your wife floo called me."

His eyes flickered with uncertainty before his face took on a red hue. "We most certainly did not!" he argued.

Tatyana was becoming far too familiar with these kinds of arguments. Craning her neck back, she gave Dandy an exaggerated expression, hoping that she would understand that she needed to find her brother's wife. When Boris got like this, the only one who could reason with him was Sheila. Getting the message, Dandy gave a nod before heading off to find Sheila with a little help from Lucinda

"Perhaps you forgot?" Tatyana suggested to her brother.

The veins in his neck began to bulge as he gave a resolute shake of his head. "Me? Forget something like that? Never! It's you who can't recall things! I don't know how many times I've had to refresh your memory about our youths!" he snarled.

Sighing, Tatyana looked skyward.

"Don't make that face at me!" Boris shouted.

"I'm not making one!" Tatyana yelled.

Before they could dissolve into any real fight, however, Boris's wife cried, "Boris!"

He looked away from Tatyana and to Sheila, face relaxing. "Ah, where have you been my love?" he asked her sweetly - as if he hadn't been about to start a row with Tatyana about something so trivial as her coming over with "false" forewarning.

Coming over, Sheila smiled back at Boris. "Setting up the dining table for our guests," she answered. " _We_ invited them over this morning."

He blinked. "We did?" he questioned dubiously.

"Yes, I'm  _very_ sure," Sheila answered.

That uncertainty that had flashed in her brother's eyes earlier became prevalent once more. "If you're sure…" he trailed off.

Sheila kissed Boris's cheek and handed him a quill and ink well from her apron pocket. "I am. Now, Lucinda was talking about you writing down a story for her. How about you lot head to the dining room while I finish with the pie and parsnips, hm?"

Knowing that he was being shooed out, Boris nodded agreeably as he reached for his latest journal. "I suppose I'll have to start writing down who's coming to visit," he remarked in a defeated tone.

Tatyana felt her heart give a pang of sympathy. Reaching out, she gave his arm a squeeze as they headed for the dining room. Poor Boris, she thought. Poor, poor, foggy-minded Boris.

"How about that story?"

Boris gave a nod. "Yes," he answered. "That would be perfect."

-v-v-v-

"You'll probably be surprised by this one, Boris," Tatyana said as she sat down at the dining table.

Settling in a seat across from her and Dandy, Boris laid out his journal on the table as he asked, "Why's that, Tatyana?"

"Well, when do you think Dandy and I met in person?" Tatyana questioned with a teasing lilt as she sent Dandy and her giggling great niece a smile.

Looking up from his journal, Boris frowned. "I don't know, you always went home to Knockturn for hols, so after you finished at Hogwarts?" he guessed.

Tatyana's smile turned into a large grin as she shook her head. "Ha, ha! A lot sooner than that, brother-mine!" she exclaimed gleefully. "It was during one of the day trips to Hogsmeade that Dandy and I met," she told him.

Dandy rested her chin in her hands and said, "The funny part, though, was it wasn't even planned. My mother and I had gone to Hogsmeade that day to buy parchment for my sister's invitations for her and Joseph's upcoming wedding. It was because I stopped to look in Honeydukes's window just as Tatyana was coming out of the shop that we noticed each other."

"Wow! Really? How'd you know it was Auntie Tatyana, Miss Dandy?" Lucinda asked.

"We'd exchanged photos of each other previously, sunshine. After being pen pals for over four years, it would have been strange if we hadn't," Dandy explained as she reached over Tatyana to give one of Lucinda's ponytails a tug.

Smiling at Dandy, Lucinda said, "Oh."

"That's all you have to say, huh?" Dandy teased the little girl.

"Maybe that's all Lucinda has to say on the matter, but I think I'd like to hear the full story of you two meeting. I don't believe you've ever told me it in entirety before, Tatyana," Boris cut in.

"Really?" Tatyana questioned with some surprise. "I feel like I've told you and the rest of family it at least a hundred times," she mumbled. This was her favorite story to tell about her and Dandy and one of the few she felt safe giving in its entirety. Their first meeting had been so innocent, so perfect. There was nothing that had to be left out of it, unlike in so many of their other stories.

Looking away, Boris dipped his quill in a well he'd set out. "I wasn't much part of the family for a while, though, remember?" he reminded Tatyana.

"I remember," Tatyana said after a moment.

"Erh, should I start it? Would that be good?" Dandy asked after a few minutes of awkward silence.

"Yes, please, Dandy," Tatyana said with relief, glad to move on from the silence.

Nodding, Dandy began, "Well, it started like this for me…"

-v-v-v-v-v-

_Walking beside her mother, Dandelion glanced at her surreptitiously before saying, "I think I'd like some fudge today."_

_Her mother sighed. "Dandelion, we don't have time for both that and Scrivenshaft's. We still need to get our hair cut and you know your sister and Joseph need the blue parchment for their invitations more than you need fudge."_

_"Mother, I'm fourteen. I think I'm old enough to run into a shop and get some fudge on my own. I can meet you at the hair salon. It's right across the street from the salon!"_

_Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, Dandelion's mother crinkled her nose. "I don't know…"_

_"Is this about me being a squib? Just because I can't do magic doesn't mean I can't handle going into a shop and buying fudge," she huffed, crossing her arms._

_The woman tensed. "Of course you can!" she assured. "It's…sunshine, don't you notice all the children running about? Hogwarts must have let the students out for a day trip. I don't want you to, I don't know, bump into one of the students and start some trouble without meaning to. You can't defend yourself."_

_In fact, Dandelion had noticed all the other boys and girls her age and older walking around. It's why she was so keen on separating from her mother. She knew it was probably a long shot, but she was sort of hoping that maybe she'd run into her pen pal, Tatyana. They'd never met in person before and it'd be neat if they could. To finally meet the flesh and blood person Dandelion had been pouring her heart and soul out to for the last three years would really make her day._

_It would also, once and for all, rid her of the niggling of doubt that the person Dandelion had been writing to was her sister and not some lonely girl like herself._

_"I can too!" she countered angrily, truly feeling resentful over the fact her parents continued to treat her like she was fragile. "I know how to jump out of the way and run! I practiced and practiced last winter, remember? After you read the news story about that illegal duel in Diagon Alley last year, you and Father were worried that I wouldn't know what to do if I was in a situation like that and hired that ex-Auror to show me how to duck and cover and things."_

_"I remember," her mother conceded. Sighing, she began, "Okay, Dandelion, you may-"_

_"Thanks Mother!" Dandelion shouted over her, already veering away from the petite woman and toward her destination._

_Putting her hands to her mouth, her mother yelled, "Don't you need money?"_

_"No! I have my allowance!" she called back with a cheeky smile._

_Feeling elated at the way her mother just shook her head before returning to her purposeful stroll toward Scrivenshaft's, Dandelion hurried on. When she came to Honeydukes's, she took a moment to savor her independence. What happened now was all up to her. There was no buffer between her and the wizards and witches that walked to and fro. If something were to happen (Merlin forbid), it'd be up to her to save herself._

_To use the tactics that she'd been taught last year and practicing ever since._

_Breathing in deeply from both exhilaration and fear, Dandelion turned to look through Honeydukes's front window when the bell to the store chimed. Glancing sideways, Dandelion didn't expect much of anything, but then she saw_ her _._

_It was Tatyana! She was just as pretty as all her pictures!_

_Laughing joyfully, Dandelion shouted, "Tatyana!"_

_Her pen pal's head turned - as did those of the girls with her._

_Eyes bulging in shock, the Tatyana didn't say anything. Then, with a shriek, rushed toward Dandelion. "Oh Merlin! Is that you? Oh Merlin!"_

_Accepting the hug as it came at her, Dandelion inhaled deeply. The familiar smell of lilac perfume and generic soap came off a lot stronger from Tatyana's hair and clothes than it did from her letters._

_"I can't believe it! What luck!" Tatyana gushed as she pulled away._

_Smiling back at her friend, Dandelion gave Tatyana's hand a squeeze. "It really is amazing, isn't it?"_

_The other girl nodded and they fell silent._

_Tatyana looked so different from her pictures, but so similar too. There were freckles and moles she'd never seen before, dips and shadows that were not defined enough for a camera to catch, but Tatyana's nose, her eyes, lips, hair and body all looked just as they did in the photos she'd sent._

_Beautiful._

_"Tatyana, who's this?" one of the girls with Tatyana asked._

_Pulling Dandelion close and linking arms with her, Tatyana said, "My pen pal! Remember her? Dandy and I have been writing each other for ages and this is the first time we've seen each other in person!"_

_"Oh?" The second one, a moon-faced girl, murmured, "that's brill and all, Tatyana, but I don't recall you ever mentioning her before."_

_This caused Dandelion's smile to slip away as Tatyana frowned. Had her friend really told these girls nothing about her? Even as she wrote Dandy saying she had? Was… Was she_ ashamed  _of having a squib mate?_

_Before her fears could get the best of her, though, Tatyana asked, "Are you sure you haven't just forgotten? I mean, I talk about Dandy and my siblings all the time."_

_"Honestly, I think we tune out most of the time when you talk about them. Your family isn't as interesting as you think," the other girl said with a smile that was just a bit too sharp to be real._

_Hackles rising at the look on the look in the other girl's eyes, Dandelion said, "They are too, interesting! Her mother went to school in Russia!"_

_This caused the duo to giggle as Tatyana sighed._

_"A no-name Russian school!" the moon-faced one tittered._

_Dandelion glanced between her pen pal and these two, abominable, mean girls that Tatyana had walked out of the shop with. Who were they? Why had Tatyana been with them? "It's still interesting," Dandelion mumbled stubbornly._

_Sighing once more, Tatyana gave Dandelion's arm a tug. "Let's go down the street," she told her. "I'll see you two back at school, okay?" she said to the others as they turned away._

_"Yeah, that's fine! I just hope this story about you and your pen pal isn't as boring the other ones you've told!"_

_Sending the sour-faced pair a parting scowl, Dandelion leaned in close to Tatyana and whispered, "Are those two your friends?"_

_Tatyana gave a slight shake of her head. "Not… Not really," she admitted. "That's just Ruth and Betsy. Remember them? They're why I started writing you in the first place. They turned the other girls against me for a bit because I said Betsy's face looked fat with her hair down."_

_"Then why were you shopping with them?" Dandelion questioned, unhappy at the thought of her friend torturing herself with their company._

_Tatyana shrugged. "I wanted to go to Hogsmeade," she said. "But going alone isn't all that fun." Puckering her lip out in a thoughtful pout then, she gave Dandelion a narrowed look. "Say…" she mumbled, "Why are you alone? I thought your parents were terrified of letting you out of their sight."_

_"I guilted my Mother into letting me buy fudge at Honeydukes's alone while she bought paper for my sister's wedding invitations."_

_"Oh, but we're going the opposite way now! Should we head back?" Tatyana asked, looking a little anxious._

_Dandelion gave a careless laugh. "I don't care what we do! As long as you do it with me, it'll be worth it," she declared._

_Tatyana's fine brows went skyward. "Feeling rebellious, are we now?" she teased._

_"No. Well, kind of. I'm just so happy to finally meet you in person! I'm in such a great mood nothing that comes after this could possibly ruin it."_

_Tatyana smiled. "Really?" she asked._

_"Most definitely!"_

_A mischievous twinkle coming to her eyes then, Tatyana suggested, "If you really don't care. Let's head to Zonko's. I think I need to buy a little something. Maybe a dung bomb or two to put in Betsy and Ruth's trunks."_

_Handing flying to her mouth to hide her giggles, Dandelion nodded eagerly. She was sure the story she'd get from Tatyana about her prank would be well worth the short leash she'd be on the next time she came to Hogsmeade with her mother or father._

-v-v-v-v-v-

Eyes absurdly wide and little mouth hanging open in shock, Lucinda demanded, "Did you really buy dung bombs to put in Ruth and Betsy's trunks?"

Chuckling, Tatyana nodded. "I did."

Boris frowned. "I don't remember hearing anything about this. How did you keep it hush-hush? No offense, but you girls were quite well known for your yakking about anything and everything to anybody who'd listen."

"Oh, I'm sure you heard about it, Boris. It's probably just no one mentioned my name when talking about it. It's not like they could pin it on me, after all," Tatyana explained with a proud smirk.

"Hmph," he grunted as he finished writing down what Tatyana assumed to be her and Dandy's story in his journal.

"Sunshine, what's with that face your pulling?" Dandy asked Lucinda.

Looking the pair's way, Tatyana was also made curious by the deep worry lines in her great-niece's forehead. Leaning in on her elbows, she asked, "Yes, Lucinda, why ever do you look so worried?"

The little girl gave a jerky shrug of her shoulders. "I'm just  _thinkin_ ', is all. Before Miss Dandy told the story, Grandpa said he wasn't much part of the family. What's  _that_  mean? How can you not be  _much_ part of a family? You either belong to a family or you don't, right?"

Pursing her lips, Tatyana shared a look with Dandelion. "Well, sometimes when people in a family are fighting with each other, they become distant and get left out of things," she explained to the girl.

"Why was Grandpa fighting with the rest of our family?" Lucinda questioned.

As Dandy shook her head, Tatyana sighed and scrambled to think of what to tell her great niece. She couldn't say it was because Greg and Boris hated each other, now could she? Then Lucinda would ask  _why_  and at that point, there would be no way to skirt around have the "That time Greg pulled a knife on Boris" story.

"Lucinda, it's a very unhappy and very complicated story," she informed the child. "I think we should wait until your older for that one…"

"Nonsense!" Boris scoffed. "There's nothing tricky about it! Sad or not, it's important since it explains why Lucinda's never seen Ellen or her boys!"

Tatyana bunched her hands in her skirt. "Boris, don't do this. Don't tell her. She's a  _little girl,_ " she pleaded.

He narrowed his gaze, something old and bitter lurking in his eyes. Putting on a smile full of false cheer, he asked his granddaughter, "Lucinda, did you know that your Aunt Ellen has a murderer for a husband?"

"A murderer?" the girl repeated in a shocked whisper as Dandy and Tatyana jumped from their seats, giving cries of anger and disbelief.

Tatyana wanted to hex her brother more than she had in years. What he was doing was wrong. What he was doing would scar this little girl for life.

"Don't you do this, Boris!" she hissed. "You'll ruin her!"

The glare he leveled Tatyana with was vile, almost  _hateful_.

(Was it because he hated her? Or was it because he hated what she was trying to  _do_? Tatyana was too afraid to find out).

"The story is an important one in our family, Tatyana. If you don't want to hear it, you and Dandelion are welcome to leave. No one's holding you here against your will."

Wincing, Tatyana sat back down and begged one last time, "Boris, save this story for when she's older…"

"No. I know my head's not always here and I'm not going to wait so long that I can't even tell it properly when Lucinda is what you'd call 'old enough'," he snapped.

Tatyana blinked. That was his reason for wanting to tell Lucinda? It was almost… _admirable_ of him; and here she'd feared it was because he wanted to pass his hatred for Greg down to his granddaughter. Greg acknowledging his mind wasn't what it used to be was also quite the surprise. She'd been wondering if Boris knew.

Even though her brother seemed to remember the past with the clarity of a boy, there was no saying if it would stay that way. There was no saying when his long-term memory would start to deteriorate like his short-term. It could begin next week, a month from now, maybe three years out from today, but it would happen, Tatyana was sure.

The fact he seemed to understand this too made her feel a little better about him marring Lucinda's innocence.

His intent wasn't malicious per se, just a bit selfish and desperate.

"No more objections?" Boris asked.

At their silence, he nodded and looked to his granddaughter. "You know, Lucinda, your Great Uncle Greg almost killed me once. He put a knife to my neck when we were boys. After that, I decided I wouldn't be coming home anymore if I could help it. That's why I can't tell you all the stories you want to hear. I refused to go home for very long and, sometimes, not at all after he almost murdered me."

Young face scared, Lucinda brought a pigtail to her mouth and began to gnaw on the end. "Grandpa Boris…" she mumbled.

"Yes?"

"Why'd Auntie Ellen's husband try and kill you?" she asked.

Boris, expression so very fierce and righteous, replied, "Because I was trying to protect my little sister."

-v-v-v-v-v-

_"Wake up…"_

_Turning onto his side, Boris ignored the demand. He was actually kind of angry with the one whispering to him; it was so, so late and he'd only just begun to drop off into slumber. And that, Boris blamed on having to share a bed with his little brother and the ugly ex-street rat demanding his attention in the middle of the hot summer night._

_Having to share a small, narrow bedroom with five others caused the room to be stuffy, and, most of the time, made falling asleep even harder than breathing in the night's muggy air. Even when Boris convinced his mother to cast a couple of cooling charms on him and his siblings before they went to sleep did little to abate the constant sheen of sweat on his forehead._

_It was during moments like this he almost wished for those cold nights in Gryffindor's tower. Almost._

_"I_ said  _wake up!" the ex-street rat hissed again._

_Reluctantly, Boris flopped onto his back. Peeking open an eye, he frowned when he saw Greg staring down at him._

_"What?" he demanded._

_Face flat, the other said nothing before he lunged at Boris. Unable to scream with how suddenly the hand came to cover his mouth and too scared to fight due to the feeling of hot, sharp metal pressing into his neck, Boris could only stare up in terror at Greg's blank face._

_Slowly, the older boy leaned in closer and closer until they were almost nose-to-nose. It was then, looking up with his own horror-filled gaze, that he saw just how mad the ex-street rat was._

_His pupils were blown up nearly as wide as his irises and in them, there was nothing. No anger or fear or amusement or_ anything.  _It was just dead. Dead as the stares of the unwanted kittens his father drowned in a bucket of water at his family's old farm when he was a little boy._

 _"You listen here," Greg said, "I've tried to be nice to you. I let you say all you like about me. I let you call me hideous, daft, a liar and a perv. I_ let  _you. I figured you were just sore or somethin'. You were the one in charge before."_

_Boris tried to suck in a sob, but only managed to inhale the musty scent of Gregory's sweaty hands. The sharp edge of what Boris was sure had to be a knife was pressed harder into his neck - nearly strong enough to wound._

_"But you've gone too far, now, Boris. It's one thing to insult someone and to make fun of 'em, but to tell them what to do? To_ threaten ' _em? Well, that's another thing entirely. I've had that happen to me far too much already and I'm not gonna take it from some uppity little prat like you._

_"If you think you can do that to me again, you better be ready to die. I'm done being told what to do. I like your sister. Ellen's a sweet girl. I'll spend time with her how I please. If it so happens to be alone? So be it. She makes me feel good, makes me feel like I'm somethin' better than I am and I'm not goin' to let you take that from me. Is that understood?"_

_Boris was too afraid to nod, but he blinked his eyes with emphasis, hoping Greg would understand._

_He did._

_Pulling back, Greg pocketed his knife. "Glad we had that talk, Boris," he said before lying back down. Then, propping himself up on his elbow for a moment, he smirked. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you this little conversation of ours is supposed to stay between the two of us?"_

_Nodding rapidly, Boris clutched the sheets beneath him in terror of what felt like was an impending attack._

_"Brilliant," Greg said, all tension leaving him as he flopped away from Boris._

_A few minutes later, when Boris was certain that Greg was done paying him mind - maybe even sleeping - he started to shake. Knowing he'd wake Earl if he continued on like he was, Boris rolled off the bed - taking his pillow with him._

_Curling in a ball around the pillow between his and his brother's bed and the girls', Boris stuffed his hand in mouth to muffle his crying._

_He didn't sleep the rest of that night - or the next._

-v-v-v-v-v-

"He-He did  _that_?" Lucinda whispered.

Boris nodded.

Little Lucinda got out of her chair and crawled across the dining table to hug her grandfather around the neck. "I'm glad he's in Azkaban, then. He  _almost_ murdered twice an' one of them was you, Grandpa!"

Boris looked a little teary-eyed as he pulled his granddaughter into his lap to hold her close. "Thank you," he mumbled into her hair.

Tatyana shared a grim frown with Dandy. Neither of them quite agreed with Lucinda. Greg hadn't been a perfect man by any means, but he'd been a good one overall.

He'd taken care of those he loved and looked out for the interests of those beneath him just as much as he did his own. Boris didn't understand that - not even now. As a boy, he'd been willfully hateful toward their brother-in-law. He'd spat on Greg without expecting consequence for it, and when he got more than he bargained in return, he made himself into the pitiful, innocent victim.

 _Everyone_ in the family knew that wasn't true. Greg might have retaliated a bit too… _street-like_ in response to Boris's behavior, but he'd known no other way at the time. His learning in the way things worked in proper families was still too shallow for him to have ever dealt with Boris and his disdain in an appropriately civilized manner.

That didn't mean he didn't deserve to go to Azkaban for the boy he murdered, of course, but the way Boris painted child-Greg in his version of the story was as some kind of monster.

It was for that reason, more than anything else; Tatyana had wanted to hold off on this story. Boris's version was far too black and white and when a little girl like Lucinda heard it, she would take it at face-value and all other versions she'd hear later would be compared to this one, to the simple one told to her by the person she loved most in all the world.

Someday, either Lucinda's idealized version of her grandfather would be shattered or she'd deny herself the realization that her grandfather was a flawed man and Greg would always be the demon that plagued their family and tore them apart.

Neither scenario was one that Tatyana wanted her to experience, but she knew now it was inevitable. It had to happen. Just as Boris said before the story, his mind was going. There was no promise that he'd be able to relay it to her later, when she could question it more and understand it in relation to all the other family stories he told her.

When that someday came, though, Tatyana knew she'd be there for her great-niece. The one Boris swore loved her best of all her nieces and nephews.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and if you have time, please leave a comment and/or kudo :)


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